


Pay Attention

by GertieCraign



Series: My Dean Calls Me 'Brother' [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Awesome Bobby Singer, Best Friends, Bobby Lives, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dean being a pain in the ass, Destiel - Freeform, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt, Fluff and Angst, M/M, No One Else Dies In This Fic, Our Cas Is In One of Them, Our Cas is with the Winchesters in This Universe, Post-Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, References to Major Character Death - Canon, Season/Series 12, Tags for Parallel Universe Fics are Really Hard, The Rift Opened Alternate Parallel Universes, This Series has a Happy Ending, This Universe's Cas Died on the Beach in Washington, but he has a good reason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 08:12:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11353425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GertieCraign/pseuds/GertieCraign
Summary: It's a summer evening at Bobby's house. Everyone is winding down.Cas lost a bet and has had a very busy day. Dean is still enjoying his victory.





	Pay Attention

 

 

The news reports were staggering. Cas had rarely paid much attention before now. He’d had little need. He was aware of the wars, the poverty, the injustice and suffering in the world. He didn't need to be reminded that tens of millions were hurting every moment of every day. But here, in this universe, the news was very different.

The anchor was reporting on a celebration being held in a small city in northern Kazakhstan where the very last nuclear warhead had been retrieved and disarmed. Dignitaries from all over the world were gathering to mark the occasion and additional celebrations had been scheduled for the end of the week in cities across the globe.

“Ain’t that somethin’,” Bobby hollered from his seat at his desk. He was listening to the television from the other room, while sorting through his papers. “They’re doin’ one in Sioux Falls, Saturday. We oughta go.”

“You serious?” Dean partially turned to call over his shoulder back into the parlor. “Since when are you into big parties?”

“Since not only do we not have the means to blow up the whole damned planet a hundred times over anymore, but we also don’t have any of the conflicts that mighta tempted the idjits in power to do so.” He shook his head and chuckled a bit. “You couldn’t’a gotten me to believe any ‘a this would happen if you’d told me seven years ago. I almost still can’t.”

“Yeah, I hear ya,” Dean agreed. He turned back to the TV and shifted a bit, letting the arm he had draped across the back of the couch behind Cas move a little further forward. It was just enough so he could let his hand glide lightly over the smooth contour of Cas’s bare shoulder. He was rewarded with a small, almost bashful smile from the angel, before Cas turned his attention back to the computer on his lap.

Dean smiled at him, letting his gaze linger for a long while. It amazed him what a change of clothes could do for Cas. He looked so much better. He’d finally convinced this version of the angel to stop wearing such heavy clothing in the summer heat. He knew Cas could regulate his vessel’s temperature well enough, but it just made everyone uncomfortable to see him in a suit, tie and trench coat. Especially when Dean and bobby were both in khaki’s or jeans and short sleeves.

Cas didn’t particularly care one way or the other. Most angels preferred to wear attire that would make them look the most respectable in whatever human culture they were inhabiting, but he’d begun to realize that living with Bobby and Dean in a salvage yard in rural South Dakota made the suit and tie appear oddly formal. It didn’t blend in with this specific _sub_ -culture. After a single, brief trip into town with Dean had yielded more than half a dozen cheerful questions from well-meaning acquaintances of the other Castiel about ‘a job interview’ or ‘needing to get a loan from the bank’, he’d been convinced.

Cas’s only insistence was that his torso remain fully covered. The way he’d said it made Dean think there was a little more to it that just preference, but...he didn’t push.

Dean helped him pick some clothes from the other Cas’s wardrobe. The angel now sat on the couch with his legs crossed under himself. He was barefoot, in a pair of loose, thin-fabric jeans and an even thinner tank top that Dean had insisted was a favorite of his Cas’s. This was a lie. Dean had just always found that shirt to be very appealing on him and _his_ Cas had refused to wear it outside of the bedroom, insisting it made him look like a stripper. While Dean couldn’t exactly argue with that, he also couldn’t figure out where Cas had gotten that idea. Probably from a magazine, though. Dean was still kicking himself for explaining ‘sex in advertising’ to the angel. The sheer number of misinterpretations that had caused over the years...

He let his hand glide down Cas’s arm, smoothing over the skin, pausing where the furrow between muscles created an interesting spot for a fingertip to explore. He lingered over a tiny mole near Cas’s elbow. And then he let his hand move down further, dangling a few fingers below the elbow, just an inch away from the side of Cas’s waist. A long moment passed and a tiny, evil grin started to lift the corner of the hunter’s mouth.

“Don’t,” Cas said without looking up from the computer.

Dean didn’t say anything. Just continued to look at the television. The sound of typing and the small movements to manoeuvre the touchpad slowed as Cas began side-eyeing him.

Dean could feel the angel’s vessel starting to tense - the anxiety building. He had to fight to keep from smiling.

“Dean,” Cas warned. His tone was fierce but worry was bleeding into it and Dean knew him well enough to hear it.

“What? Don’t what?” Dean asked. “This?” He let two of the dangling fingers flick across Cas’s side.

Cas flinched like he’d been electrocuted, nearly dislodging the computer from his lap in his attempt to protect his side. Dean took advantage of the move, bringing his other hand over and repeating on Cas’s other side. Same result. Then in the back of his under arm, the bottom of the foot pointed toward him... He got one last shot in behind Cas’s left ear before the angel planted a solid elbow into Dean’s ribs.

Dean was now the one lurching away and trying to protect himself. The hollow thud was loud enough for Bobby to hear in the other room. Dean’s immediate ‘Ow’ and wincing laughter got the older man’s attention.

“Settle down. Both of ya,” Bobby growled, before mumbling a few select curses under his breath and going back to his paperwork.

“Ah…” Dean gasped between pained giggles. “Fuck...man... That’s gonna leave a mark.”

“I told you I don’t like that.”

“You did...yeah... Seriously, though...you don’t understand how tempting it is.”

Cas shook his head and closed the laptop. He leaned forward to set it on the coffee table and the moment he let go, he snapped his arm back to cover his exposed side. Dean’s hand had already started making a grab for it.

“Come on,” Dean whined when Cas balled up his fists. “You’re ticklish again. You haven’t been ticklish in years. Not since you figured out how to shut the nerves down and be all controlled and boring.”

“Clearly something I need to learn to do immediately,” Cas grumbled. He was keeping a wary eye on the man now, dividing his attention evenly between Dean’s eyes and his hands.

“Well...you know how the other version of you learned?”

Cas squinted at him and then slowly shook his head.

“The trick is to train your brain to ignore the signal,” Dean said, with a twinkling, predatory look in his eye.

Cas clenched his jaw.

“And the only way to do that is to get tickled until you can ignore it.”

“I said, ‘don’t’,” Cas threatened.

“I’m pretty sure I still get to do whatever I want for another three hours.” Dean sniffed and shifted down just slightly into the couch. He let out a smug, open mouthed sigh and grinned at the angel. “And _you_...have to do what I say.”

Cas gave him his best pre-kill-face.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Dean said. “You’re the one who lost the bet.”

The angel sighed heavily and turned his glare toward the TV. “You did _not_ properly explain that bet,” he growled. “It hardly seems fair that I’d have to abide by it.”

“Yeah, yeah, ya big baby.” Dean put his arm back around the angel and pat his shoulder. “Not my fault you suck at bets. Get Sam to teach ya a little about contract negotiation next time ya see ‘im. But for now…’Slave for a Day’ is exactly what it sounds like, and you took the bet and you lost. So...suck it up, sunshine.”

Cas’s face twisted up again.

“I thought it meant to be of service for the day. And that _is_ what you implied. I didn’t realize it meant I’d have to do whatever you say. I still don’t think it should mean that.”

“Everybody else knows what it means, so...again...suck it up.” Dean reached over and grabbed his beer off of the side table. He took a swig and set it back down, then put his hand back on Cas’s knee.

Cas tensed. It was just a tiny movement, but he knew Dean had seen and felt it. He ventured a quick glance at the man and was immensely irritated to see a self-satisfied smile on his face.

Dean pat Cas’s shoulder reassuringly and decided to have at least _some_ mercy on him. “Ok. Well...my beer’s almost empty...and I could do with a snack.” He gave Cas’s knee a quick squeeze and his smile got bigger, when the angel clicked his tongue and huffed.

“So, first things first, me and Bobby both need a beer. Then…” he said, letting his gaze drift up to the ceiling, as though giving it deep consideration. “I’ll take a sandwich. Actually, Bobby should eat, so make him one ‘a these, too. Use that loaf of french bread, not the stuff in the bag. Cut it in half across, and then cut each half lengthwise. Roast beef - pile it on there. Um...couple slices of cheese. Onions - there’s grilled ones in the container in the fridge. Get all that on the bottom half of the sandwich and pop it in the oven. Use the broiler. Top rack. About 3 minutes. Pull it out, put some of that horseradish mustard on it and a couple of thin slices of tomato. I’ll take that on a plate with some of those kettle chips and a pickle. Bobby’ll want those, too.”

Cas stared blankly at him...then sighed and slowly rose from his seat. Dean reached over for his beer and quickly took the last swig. “Here ya go,” he said, handing the empty bottle over the back of the couch, as Cas walked behind it to leave the room. Dean heard another annoyed sigh as the bottle was tugged out of his hand. He grinned.

Bobby heard the angel mumbling under his breath before he even saw him enter the room. He looked over the top of his reading glasses, without raising his head, to watch Cas pass by on his way to the kitchen. He made no other indication that he’d noticed him.

A moment later, Cas was setting a cold bottle down on Bobby’s desk and heading back toward the living room.

“Coaster,” Bobby immediately called out after him. There was no reprimand in his voice. It was simply a reminder. Cas stopped mid-stride and Bobby surreptitiously watched as the angel straightened his shoulders, turned on his heel and headed back into the kitchen. He grabbed three coasters off of the table, handed one to Bobby and went back into the living room.

There was a brief period of silence, and then Bobby heard him heading back into the parlor.

“Yes,” Cas called back over his shoulder without breaking stride. He lowered his voice to a grumble. “I think I can figure out how to turn on a stove by myself.” He walked to the kitchen counter, grabbed the loaf of french bread and placed it on the cutting board. Then he grabbed the chef’s knife.

“Not that one,” Bobby said. Cas turned to look at him. “That’s for meat and veggies and such. You want the long one with the little teeth on the edge. That’s the bread knife.”

Cas hesitated for a moment, not sure if Bobby was teasing him. Surely there wasn’t a knife specifically for cutting one food item. That seemed rather finicky. Bobby noticed and just stared at him, looking annoyed. Cas decided he wasn’t kidding and put the chef’s knife back in the wood block. He quickly found a knife that seemed to match the man’s description. He held it up and Bobby nodded.

The first cut crosswise was easy. He figured out how to use the knife to saw instead of slice intuitively. Then he started to cut lengthwise and Bobby again stopped him.

“On it’s side. Otherwise the sandwich won’t lay flat.”

Cas took a moment to process that, then adjusted the bread and looked back at him. Again, Bobby nodded.

Next, he turned on the oven.

“Check there’s nothin’ in there, first,” Bobby said. He wasn’t even looking in the kitchen, now - just listening and figuring out what Cas was doing by the sound. When he heard the deafening silence of angelic confusion, he looked up...and saw Cas staring at him, head cocked and squinting.

“Why would- ”

“‘Cause it’s where most people, includin’ me, store the big stuff.” Bobby stood and slowly sauntered into the kitchen. He turned the broiler off and opened the oven, revealing a large cast iron skillet and a full sized roasting pan. He pulled them out and set them aside. “That way they don’t take up all your cabinet space, when you ain’t usin’ the oven. You always wanna check, before ya turn it on. And you don't preheat usin’ the broiler. Just turn it on when you're ready to put the food in there.”

Cas nodded.

“So...what’re we makin’?” Bobby asked as he bent down and got the broiling pan out of the stove drawer. Cas looked at it, trying to decide if he should ask. He answered Bobby’s question instead.

“Sandwiches.”

“Ok... What’s goin’ _on_ the sandwiches?”

“Roast beef. Cheese. Grilled onions.”

Bobby nodded and pursed his lips, trying to hide an involuntary grin. “Right,” he said and turned to the refrigerator. He began rummaging for the items while Cas fidgeted behind him.

“They’re just sandwiches. I’m sure I can manage,” Cas insisted, suddenly feeling very guilty for dragging Bobby into this. And more than a little embarrassed. “You don’t need to- ”

“Shut up, will ya?” Bobby cut him off, bringing the ingredients back to the counter and laying them out. “Just watch and do what I do and you’ll know for next time...and you won’t tear up the kitchen or burn the damned house down.”

For the next couple of minutes, Bobby went about a methodical tutorial on loading up a sandwich. He demonstrated on one piece of bread and let Cas copy on the other. When they were done, Bobby showed him where the oven mitts were and had him put the pan in the oven and set the timer for three minutes.

“Chips are in the pantry,” Bobby said as he again went to the refrigerator to get the remaining ingredients.

Cas nodded and crossed the room to the pantry. He opened the door and began looking for the chips, then stopped. He looked back at Bobby.

“How did you know he wanted- ”

“‘Cause I know that boy. I know exactly what he asked you to make. I knew as soon as you rattled off those three ingredients. This happens to be his favorite sandwich, but only when it's hot outside.” Cas’s brow furrowed and Bobby shook his head. “Nobody knows why, not even him, so don’t even bother askin’. Just...if it’s hot out and he needs to eat, make him this and he’ll think you’re the best thing in the whole world for at least a couple hours.”

Again, Cas nodded, absorbing every bit of this. He went back to Bobby’s side, bag of chips in hand, and immediately asked about the two jars of pickles on the counter. Bobby explained the difference between a dill wedge and a sweet gherkin. Dean would always want the dill wedge. Bobby wanted the gherkins for himself. Cas eyed the jars like an archaeologist trying to decipher ancient runes. He read every ingredient and memorized the descriptions of the differing tastes Bobby described.

“Still haven’t figured out how to sequester your grace, huh? I mean...that's what's gonna let ya do stuff like...taste and touch and...ya know…the good stuff” Bobby looked honestly surprised, and just a little sad, too.

Cas had no idea how to answer. He wasn’t sure he knew what Bobby was referring to, so he just shook his head.

Bobby sighed and the sadness seemed to deepen a bit. “There’s a book you need to read. I’ll grab it for ya when we’re done here.”

Both of them went back to their sandwich making. They were finished with the oven. Bobby sliced the tomato, then handed the knife to Cas and had him cut a few thin slices, too. This, of course, Cas did expertly. Bobby grinned. “‘Least I don’t gotta worry about you slicin’ your fingers off.” He gave Cas a quick pat on the back.

Horseradish mustard in a line on top, and then the upper half of the bread pressed down. Chips. Pickle. Bobby then insisted on putting two strawberries on Dean’s plate, as well, telling Cas to just trust him.

Cas picked up both plates and Bobby stopped him again. He took his own plate from the angel and shoved a roll of paper towels into his hand. He stepped back, sized up their handiwork and grinned. He nodded and gave Cas another pat on his back. “Good job. They look perfect.”

Cas looked at him for a long moment...his gaze a little more meaningful than Bobby could easily tolerate. The hunter rolled his eyes before Cas even finished saying, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now get back in there and give his royal highness his freakin’ sandwich.”

A look of thorough annoyance crossed Cas’s face before he turned to head back toward the living room.

“Hey, uh...Cas…” Bobby called to him. He motioned for him to come back away from the doorway and then leaned in close to him. “You know why he’s doin’ this, don’tcha? I mean...you’ve figured out this is for you, right?”

The number of squints and tilts that rippled across Cas’s expression gave Bobby the answer.

“Jeez,” the man groaned to himself. “Freakin’ deja vu.” He sighed and looked up at Cas’s confused face. “This is...this is the shit I taught you how to do when you and him first started...ya know...bein’ a couple. It’s his favorite stuff. It’s, uh...”

Bobby began to fidget and look uncomfortable as he tried to find the right words. Finally, he huffed and shook his head.

“Look...you, uh...you ever heard the expression, ‘The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?’”

Cas nodded dutifully. His stare never faltered.

“You have no idea what it means do you?”

The answer surprised neither of them. Bobby sighed again.

“Ok… Just...pay attention to what’s goin on right now. This whole losin’ a bet and the ‘slave for a day thing’... he did it on purpose.” Bobby held Cas’s gaze, while the angel processed that. “This is all stuff the other you figured out over time. Stuff that makes Dean...uh… He’s tryin to teach ya some things you can use. Just...think about what he’s had you do today. The clothes, the different games he’s had you play, havin’ you hang out with him and hand him tools while he worked on the car...and now his favorite summer meal… These are all things that’ll...uh… Ya see... He’s tryin’ to show you how to...uh...”

Cas furrowed his brow and straightened slightly. “You’re saying… he’s trying to teach me how to seduce him?”

Bobby grimaced uncomfortably. “Eh...yeah, that’s probably a little too...um… He’s just teachin’ ya how to get his attention. That’s a better way to put it. Little things you can do.”

There was another silent pause while Cas took that in. His gaze never left Bobby’s face. And then a small grin began lifting the corner of his mouth.

“He likes the way I look in this outfit.” Cas stated it, but looked to Bobby for confirmation.

“Yep,” Bobby said with a tiny grin of his own.

“And…” Cas continued. The grin was increasing as it started to come together for him. “...being with him while he works on the car… he enjoys my keeping him company?”

“Bingo,” Bobby nodded.

“Bobby,” Cas said, shifting uncomfortably. He hesitated for a long awkward moment, before finally deciding he should just say it. “I can’t… um…”

Bobby cut him off, shaking his head. “He ain’t doin’ it for himself, son. He knows you can’t… He gets that. He’s doin this for you. So, when you get back, you’re gonna know how to...uh…” Again, Bobby seized up, searching for the right words. “Look...nobody is gonna know how to get Dean’s motor running like Dean himself. He knows what he likes. And he knows what you can easily do to get that other version of him to pay attention.”

All the fight and annoyance fell away from Cas as Bobby spoke. It was an enormously selfless gift Dean was giving him, and he'd fought him nearly every step of the way. He hadn’t understood. It had simply never occurred to him that Dean would do that. Especially not in a veiled way. He swallowed and dropped his gaze away.

“I feel very foolish.”

“No, now...don’t do that. He knew you didn’t know,” Bobby admonished, picking up his own plate and guiding Cas slowly out of the kitchen.

“Why didn’t he just tell me this is what he was doing? Why...go through all the trouble of setting up a rigged game and a bet?”

“Well, Cas...I could give you a big run-down of all the psychology behind the actions of both ‘a you idjits, but it wouldn’t help one bit and it’d bore us both. So, just know that he loves you... and try your best to put up with him. And keep in mind, you got plenty of your own crazy shit for him to put up with, too. Neither one of ya makes a lick ‘a sense most ‘a the damned time.“

A soft smile spread across Cas’s face. He snorted, still looking directly into Bobby’s eyes.

“What,” Bobby asked, already suspicious.

“I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable…”

“Ah, jeez,” Bobby groaned, instantly annoyed. “You’re the same in every freakin’ universe! Just say it ‘n get it over with, ya sappy bastard.”

Cas snorted again and smiled. “I had very little time to get to know you before. I didn’t fully see it. I’m rather ashamed to say I’m only now realizing how great an influence you’ve had on Dean and Sam. Their wisdom and strength...their compassion...even their patience and empathy… I’m fairly certain they learned nearly all of it from you. You were an excellent father to them, Bobby. You should be proud.”

Bobby looked down at his plate. He held very still for several long moments, knowing that anything he said would break the stranglehold he was keeping on his emotions. Tears had already welled up in his eyes. The tiniest crack, and he’d end this conversation a blubbering mess. Cas waited. He said nothing, aware that his friend needed a moment.

Eventually, Bobby sniffed and set his plate down on the kitchen table. He then took Cas’s plate away from him and put it on the table too.

“You piss me off sometimes, ya know that?” He said it through a very tight throat and blinked tears out of his eyes. Then he leaned forward and pulled the angel in for a hug. He held on for a bit longer than he normally would, still fighting to keep himself from cracking all the way. The delay gave Cas enough time to properly position his arms to hug the man back.

Bobby finally pulled back. Grinning at him, he clapped a hand on Cas’s shoulder, then dropped his arm away.

“I’m gonna make Sam teach ya how to give a decent hug, before ya leave. You’re awkward as hell.” Bobby turned and grabbed both plates, handing Dean’s back to the angel. He motioned for Cas to follow him as he walked very stiffly out of the kitchen.

“You’re injured,” Cas said. His brow furrowed with concern and he immediately made a move to approach Bobby and heal him.

“No,” Bobby huffed and waved him off. He continued around to the other side of his desk. “I’m old, outta shape, and I drink a lot. There’s a difference.” He motioned with his arm for Cas go back in the livingroom.

Cas smiled at him again and nodded. Bobby watched him walk out. He stared at the empty doorway for a long moment, then set his plate on the desk and began scanning his shelves for the promised book.


End file.
